Music Soothes the Spark
Elite District - Kolkular - Kaon Kaon has a deserved reputation as a rough kind of place, but the money and resources for something like the Gladiatorial Pits had to come from somewhere- and rumors are that some of the support came from Kaon's former high end district. Long before the war, this city section featured towering beacons of the finest architecture. There, wealthy and high class Cybertronians lived and pursued leisure activities, including prestigious cultural events at the famous Kaon Opera House. As War came to Cybertron, the grandeur of the area has faded, but remnants still remain today- including a rebuilt Kaon Opera House. The new building is not quite as grand as it once was, but it still contains a distinct echo of its former glories. Contents: Misfire Obvious exits: South leads to Plaza - Kolkular. Looking around at all the grand buildings in Kaon, Misfire is soon stopped by a panhandler who is holding out his hand. Taking the hand, Misfire shakes it! "Misfire is the name nice to meet you! Isn't this grand?" The panhandler stares at Misfire, "Credits?" Misfire smiles, "No....M.I.S.F.I.R.E!" He then slaps the panhandler on the shoulder, as he walks off towards the Opera House, the Panhandler cursing Misfire as the Decepticon walks off. Oddly, Aimless isn't with Misfire. Approaching the Opera House, Misfire looks around and pulls out his data pad, "Okay...Blast Off said to meet him here, for some training...Operation Clean Monster Lair, Sounds important...And Blast Off said there will be a prize or something...I hope it is tickets to the Opera or a tour. Or a tour and tickets Aimless! Let's see here..." He looks at his Chrono, "Ooooo, a little early...What should we do Aimless?" Misfire looks around, "Aimless?" He then looks around and then at his data pad again, "Oh, Right... Blast Off, don't bring the pet..." Misfire laughs nervously, "I can't believe I have gotten that use to having Aimless around..." Misfire then whistles as he waits for his friend in front of the Opera House. You say, "Hey. Pssst. Misfire." If Misfire looks behind him, he'll see Blast Off already standing at the door of the Opera House, looking rather...furtive. "Hurry up, come in here before anyone sees us." The Combaticon looks around again, like he's trying to make sure no one (else) he knows sees him. Misfire may note that the Combaticon is not looking quite as "polished" and neat as usual... in fact he's a bit on the scruffy side. He holds the door to let Misfire in, then shuts the door behind them. Signaling Misfire to follow him, he leads the Targetmaster past grand, intricate staircases and VIP seating. Only a few mechs are here right now, as no shows are scheduled to begin soon. No, it's a quiet time, which is exactly what Blast Off wanted. The little procession continues past several hallways full of granduer and extravagence, then they come to a smaller, less "grand" hallway. Blast Off pauses for a moment, hesitating and looking almost pained, then motions Misfire to follow him in. Soon, they come to a stop in front of a large door. It says "Janitor Supplies"." Looking back over his shoulder, Misfire waves at Blast OFf, "Heya Bla..." Misfire cuts himself off as he hurries as Blast Off hastens him closer. Misfire stares his mouth open as he looks at the staircases and points, then the VIP seating, he points, "Shiny!" Misfire says softly as he walks through the hallway, pointing at the pictures of past stars, he reads a few of the names, butchering them badly. Misfire continues to smile widely as he follows Blast Off...as they reach the Janitor Supply Closet, Misfire looks around and... HUGS BLAST OFF! "That was awesome Blast Off, I never thought I would ever, like be inside, and the stairs went to the seats and the paintings, and the show posters, and everything!" He rambles his words together and let goes, "I mean...Thank you!" He then looks as some grime gets on his armor. "Uh, Blast Off, I know the grunge look is in, but uh, I am not..." Misfire meddles his hands together as he looks away, "I don't think it fits you...I have some polish or something..if you want...or..." Misfire holds his hand, "Wait, fashion is your thing, I am sorry...and here he gave me a tour...in private...I was being critiquing your look." Misfire looks at the closet then Blast Off, "How can I repay you for this tour?" <'Decepticon'> Blowpipe says, "Tch." <'Decepticon'> Scorponok says, "What in the nine hells is Blot doing!?" <'Decepticon'> Misfire says, "Uh, Boss, some questions don't have good answers..." <'Decepticon'> Blot says, "Rarrrgh, Blot is winning!" <'Decepticon'> Blowpipe says, "No Blot, you are collapsing buildings on top of yourself, you idiot." <'Decepticon'> Misfire says, "That could be winning..." Blast Off 's optics go wide as Misfire hugs him. Not exactly used to being hugged, he steps back. "Uh..." As Misfire continues on, he blinks and looks around. He's been so focused on getting through all that grandeur without being seen by anyone that he failed to stop and "sniff the roses"... or consider how Misfire would. "Ah... yes. It is quite impressive, is it not? I mean, it is not what it USED to be, before the war... but it does bring back some fond memories." When Misfire comments on his appearance, his optics darken slightly and there's a soft huff of his vents. "No... you are correct to note my rather unbecoming appearance. I can assure you that it is not of MY choice." He sighs. "That is... "thanks" to Galvatron. Who, for some reason, chose to punish ME (ME!!!) for not stopping some Autobot intruders ...when even Scorponok was unable to do so." His optics gleam momentarily. "However- I do not know if you saw my video broadcast, but... I did it! I defeated Blurr! I shot him down, Misfire, FINALLY!" The optics darken again. "But then Fortress Maximus snatched him away from me before I could truly finish him off, and with him went some data. I guess it was important or something, too." he shrugs. "But I shot Blurr down! Did I get any accolades? NO! I got assigned a fate worse than death... cleaning up after ..." he shudders. "Apeface and Snapdragon." He doesn't even mention the part about not being allowed to take a shower- it is just too cruel to think about. Sniffle. At Misfire's last question, the optics gleam again and he takes a step back towards Misfire. "Ahhh! I'm glad you asked!!! Yes, it would only be proper for you to repay my kindness. You can do so by..." he stops and stares at the Janitor Closet. He mumbles something, then realizes Misfire probably didn't hear him, so he repeats himself. "Showing me how to clean." The aristocratic shuttleformer has no clue, never really having done it himself. "I... I have no idea how to use most any of the tools in there." Looking around and nodding, "Very impressive...I wish I could have seen it back then..." Misfire voice trails off, Before looking back at Blast Off, "Oooooo, yeah Apeface and Snapdragon detail...been there...have the emotional scars...err..." Misfire looks sheepish as he realizes that isn't very helpful. He then beams at Blast Off, "I saw that! You totally showed Blurr that he is inferior to you!" Misfire moves to fist bump, Blast Off, "Totally bad-aft Blast Off." He then makes finger-gun gestures at the door. "I bet it was like...Boom! Boom! Die!" He then grabs at his own throat, "Oh Blast Off, I am totally lame and dead...I, Blurr am slow and stupid and way blockier and dumb compared to Blast Off." Misfire then smiles and bangs Blast Off on the shoulder in a gesture of friendship. He then moves to the closet and opens it up, "You are in luck Blast Off! I get tons of 'cleaning' assignments." Misfire pulls out a mop from the closet. "This is a..." Misfire stares at it, "M.O.P. Or Mechanical Something, Something." He smiles as he rolls out a yellow bucket full of dirty water. "You put the mop in this thingy..." He puts the mop in and starts to wring it out. "The key is..." He pulls the mop out as he puts it on the ground and starts cleaning. "The key is to make things really wet. People think wet is clean...This takes little time...BUT!" He then props his hands on the top of the mop and leans on it....looking like he is napping. "Is you can use it to support you as you nap..usually I can get an hour or two..." OOOH!!! He points at the yellow, slippery when wet signs. "Put out these signs first, like way away from you...'Mechs avoid these signs like the plague." Blast Off raises an optic ridge at the first comment. No, that *doesn't* help much... but the cynicism fades as Misfire talks about Blurr. The Combaticon returns the fistbump, slightly startled, then just stands there, very still, optics slowly becoming very bright. If Blast Off ever felt like hugging someone in his life, it would be right now. It takes everything he has not to. Because, ya 'know, Combaticons don't hug. Especially not the aloof, mysterious, loner and awesome-like-that Blast Off. He stands there another moment, then finally manages to say, "Yes. Exactly. EXACTLY! It's like you were THERE!" It's so nice to finally talk to someone who UNDERSTANDS. As Misfire proceeds to describe equipment, Blast Off draws closer, watching and taking it in. He leans away from the dirty water, trying to avoid it with a disgusted look, but nods as Misfire explains the tricks of the trade. "Interesting... I never realized there was actually INTELLIGENCE involved in doing something like this..." As usual, Blast Off manages to be condescending and potentially insulting without even realizing it. "I will keep that in mind. Now, what do I do when something especially revolting needs a cleanup? Where do I dispose of these... leavings?" he shudders again. "Have you had to deal with this sort of thing very often? How do you... you know, deal with being forced to do such menial labor?" The Combaticon then walks up to a broom and very hesitantly grabs hold of it. "I... suppose I must ...practice." He looks around. "That's why I chose this place. I knew an Opera House would be the LAST place any other Decepticons would walk in on us at." Smiling at Blast Off, Misfire bobs his head happily, "Yeah! I could totally picture it and I bet it was awesome! Hahahaha! Stupid Blurr." Misfire continues to smile at Blast Off as Blast Off gestures towards the mop and discusses the Intelligence involved. "Oh, yeah, I spend a lot of my processing power on figuring out how to clean and slack off...Oddly, I have gotten worse at Math..." Misfire pauses as if realization is about to happen, "Hmmm, nothing." He shrugs again, "Oh, I get these assignments a lot...You know to whole...Bang...Ooooo, didn't mean to shoot you in the back there Commander, you know wind and angles and the bot moved and stuff..." Misfire shrugs, "Cleaning detail is way better than floggings..." Misfire seems to wince at the word before looking in the closet. "Well, a lot of times, I grab these chemical bottles and start pouring them on the waste and let the chemistry happen...You know, bases and acids and stuff. Pooring chemicals is the way to go...Oddly, once I started that, I became worse at reading...." Misfire ponders, "Eh, probably nothing." He then leans in and whispers. "Also, you can shoot and blow up a lot of waste too...it is hard to miss when you can put the gun on the object." Chuckling Misfire, motions Blast Off into the closet...reaching around, he unclasps a hidden panel, near the door on the inside, "And the Flask compartment helps...a lot!" Misfire points inside the panel where there is an array of flasks. "Just make sure to restock...Union Rules..." Smiling again, "Getting overcharged helps a lot...a whole lot...might be the most important thing...also, you can get Apeface and Snapdragon drunk too, then start burning things with fire...that really helps..." Looking around, Misfire gives a thumbs up. "It is like fighting...without glory...or satisfaction...or excitement..." Dustoff has arrived. War is hell. That is a given. Sometimes, though, there's those nice, quiet moments where someone just opts to escape from the carnage to scout out a bit of quiet. Headlights shine through the various crevasses and windows of the building as the lightweight tactical vehicle pulls in. Transforming, Dustoff makes his way into the building, offering a low whistle. "Classy, classy place." He stands there for just a moment before music kicks in. Nothing quite like 'Highway to Hell' when it's heard blaring in the acoustical marvel that is an opera house. <'Decepticon'> Shockwave says, "Scorponok, my grammar subroutines detect quotes around your final word. I suspect your words have a second, less reassuring meaning." <'Decepticon'> Dustoff says, "I'm out of the office, but I'll have the medbay warm and ready. Right down to mints on the pillow. Just take two of the pills on the counter and I'll call you in the morning." <'Decepticon'> Scorponok says, "Oh, on the contrary, Shockwave, I want to help you!" <'Decepticon'> Scorponok says, "Excellent shooting, Triggerhappy!" <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "Excellent shooting" and "Triggerhappy" do not belong in the same sentence." <'Decepticon'> Scorponok says, "But he got a clean hit... on Shockwave!" <'Decepticon'> Triggerhappy says, "Hey Blast Off, how's the janitorial duty coming?" <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "AHHHHH... now it makes sense." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "Lovely. Just lovely." <'Decepticon'> Triggerhappy says, "Good! I'm glad you're enjoying it, maybe you should commit to it long-term, you know, since you love it so much." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "I see sarcasm is lost upon you, Triggerhappy." Blast Off nods again as Misfire TOTALLY describes the scene with Blurr EXACTLY as it happened and decides he really does like this mech. He continues to nod politely, though no, he really doesn't know what Misfire means about shooting commanders in the back and everything. The sharpshooter hasn't really had that problem. He doesn't really notice the wincing at the mention of flogging, either. He continues to nod. "Hmmm... shooting things to get rid of them? Well, it works with Autobots, why not trash, too? Yes... cleaning AND target practice, all wrapped up in one. It just might work! Aren't you supposed to find ways to make work fun, anyway?" When Misfire reveals the hidden compartment of alcohol, Blast Off stares. "There... really is a lot I didn't know. I... always though janitors to be such... dull and simple creatures. They would just flit about the high class mechs such as myself, keeping out of our way- and that was as it should be. I had no idea they had a secret code of their own. A... life of their own. ...Who would have thought!" *This is such a new thought to him.* ...He then nods his head in agreement. "I think you are completely right- I should be drinking a LOT of high-grade. It IS the only way to deal with Horrorcons and the living nightmare I have been handed. Yes... and burning things could help. In fact, that's probably outright neccessary in this case." He shudders again. Stepping outside the closet with the broom in hand, Blast Off begins tentatively trying his hand at sweeping the floor. He pushes very stiffly with the broom, not actually sweeping anything up, either. He's just making motions. "Is this correct?" He asks hopefully. Then suddenly "Highway to Hell" starts blaring. "What the slag?" Annoyed, the Combaticon walks down the hallway to peer into the main lobby. There he spots Dustoff. "OH SLAG. There's some body there." He ducks back into the hallway, hoping Dustoff didn't notice. "Ignore him. Maybe he'll go away." "Work is always fun, that is my motto. Also, Practice makes Perfect-ish...well, better, well less bad, well...not god awful..." Misfire smiles at Blast Off. "Oh, yeah, Janitors...cab drives...technicians, union stuff. Ferocious gamblers. Plus Aimless told me all this union stuff from his construction days...it seems like these guys may run the planet." Misfire shrugs and he pulls out his Union Card, in the picture Misfire and Aimless are slapping at each other's faces. "Good times...good times. Reminds me back when I worked the Docks...." "Oh, yeah, cleaning stuff with fire is a time honored tradition really." Misfire watches Blast Off sweep which is really shuffling dirt around, "Oh, great job, you are a real Pro! That isn't surprise with all those fancy servos and skills you have." Misfire sounds genuine before looking over to the song, Misfire waves warmly towards Dust Off! "It is the Doc...ererefefe.egegege..." Misfire is muffled as he is dragged back around, "Go away, the Doc is good people, plus they know a lot about cleaning..." He pleads. Dustoff spins on his planted foot, rifle pulled and aimed towards the noise... Especially since someone tried to wave only to get pulled back and muffled. The light on his helmet comes on as bright as it can go. "Hey now! Tell you what, I'm going to not shoot you if you tell me why I shouldn't shoot you, and make it convincing. Otherwise, I'll shoot and see if I have to fix you later." He shrugs. "Or not. I mean, hey, let's be honest here... I'm considering myself off-duty, so you might just have to deal with a ruptured energon line on your own." He thinks for a moment before adding, "While I laugh. Hysterically." Blast Off nods to Misfire, pleased to know that he is doing such a great job. He states smugly, "Well, I suppose it only makes sense. I'm sure I'm a natural at ANYTHING I might try... what with all my exceptional skills and knowledge." Then he groans in exasperation. Looks like his perfect plan to do this WITHOUT anyone else they know waltzing in has failed. Now before this fool shoots somebody (mainly, HIM) Blast Off decides he will have to diffuse the situation. He begins to head back towards the main hallway to confront Dustoff, then thinks better of it and goes back to where Misfire is. Placing the broom there, he THEN proceeds to the junction of the main, elaboratedly decored hallway and the smaller, more barren hallway he and Misfire currently stand in. "It's NOT that dark you know. You can turn that stupid light off now." Peering comically around Blast Off, Misfire waves at Dust Off! "Heya Dust Off! It is Blast Off and Misfire! Wait, is the shooting the funny part or the ruptured energon line funny, or the pain is funny, or did you remember a funny joke. See sometimes, I remember a funny joke and then I laugh later, but Triggerhappy laughs at gun fire, and Blast Off here sometimes laughs when people suffer." Misfire straightens up and smiles. "Anyways, so, we agree everything is funny? Blast Off was just supervising me cleaning stuff, and I was thinking back to how great you are a cleaning the Medical Bay, and I bet you could give me some tips." He nudges Blast Off and whispers, "I got your back..." His voice dead serious for a moment, before the cheery Misfire returns, "So...who wants a drink?" Dustoff lowers his firearm and shuts the light off. "Blinded your optics, didn't it?" He shakes his head. "What the slag are you doing in here? Last I checked no one came in here but," he looks around, "No one! I mean, not like there's any space to fly about before smacking a few walls." He slings the rifle and makes his way over. Misfire is given a curt nod. "As far as what was funny? All of it. I'd have laughed at all of it." At Misfire's mention of cleaning stuff, and the talk of offering up tips, Dustoff just sort of freezes in place. "You can't possibly be serious. You think I clean the medbay? HA! Hahah...hah. Funny, great joke. Got me right where it hurts... I will take the drink, though." Blast Off glares at Misfire. "I don't laugh." Then glares again. "And I don't laugh when people suffer." Pause. "Well, unless they're Blurr.... Or perhaps an Autobot." Pause. "Or possibly Triggerhappy." To the rest, he blinks, then nods. "Uh, yes. I was ...supervising. Making sure Misfire didn't damage anything. It would not do to have the Opera House destroyed, after all." Dustoff gets yet another deadpan look. "This Opera House may not be quite what it used to be, but that hardly means no one comes here. In fact, there will be a show tomorrow. We were just here inbetween crowds... TRYING to avoid running into anyone." he sniffs. "Too late for that now. Yes, I'd like a drink, too. Then perhaps you'd like a tour of the place? There is some exquisite architecture to be seen here." Also- if he can get Dustoff away from the Janitor's Closet, he may be able to avoid any further questions about that. Peering around, Misfire looks at Blast Off, "Oh, I thought I heard you laugh...Ahhh, never mind." Misfire smiles as he produces three flasks, when he distributes to the others, keeping one for himself. "Tour! TOUR!" Misfire clamors for a moment, "There is a show tomorrow...are there tickets?" Misfire asks as he looks around, before looking back at Dustoff. "You know, Doc, for a Doctor you have a really awesome sense of humor.Also, one of the guys...Who does clean out the Medical Bay, the drones?" Frowning, "Wait, if you aren't hear for the art, and you said you are off duty, then why are you here?" Misfire sips his flask as he looks at Dust Off. Dustoff says, "Yeah, the drones do the grunt-work. We just make the miserable patients we get comfortable and relish their agony." He looks around at the hall. "Wait, there's a show here tomorrow?" He scratches his head and looks about. "Well, news to me... ahwell. Guess I'll have to come back once it closes." There's a momentary pause. "Wait, what are you doing here, again? This place doesn't have any real significance for military units. Does it?" Blast Off looks, confused, at Misfire's first comment for a moment, then shrugs and accepts the flask. "Thank you," he says politely. Being in the Opera House has a way of making him feel quite civilized and all. Unlike how he's been feeling lately, cleaning up after Horrorcons and being unable to take a shower afterward most of the time. Now that they are standing there, sipping flasks, the Combaticon can almooost relax just a bit and enjoy being back in the Opera House. "There may be some tickets left- we could attempt to find out." He doesn't mention that he's embarrassed to actually show up at the Opera right now, not given his...scruffy state. "Well, Dustoff, some of us actually enjoy this little thing called CULTURE. We are here to soak up the ambiance as ...Misfire here cleans up and makes this place presentable. No, no real military value... except, perhaps, to those troops whose sparks are lifted by the beauty of such a place. You repair bodies... a place such as this repairs... the spark.", he finishes quietly, and sips from his flask again. Looking around Misfire specifically looks over his shoulder, "Units..." Then the dimmer goes back on as he is still in Mayhem Attack Squad, Suicide Missions Division. "Uh, well, see it is my off cycle." It isn't. "And I like it here, that culture helps me...uh, aim." He says and nods. "Oh, right and I clean stuff." Frowning again, "But that still doesn't really explain why you are Dustoff, not that I mind, or care, or have a say, but it seems like you are looking for some one?" Dustoff says, "Looking for nobody, actually." He opens the flask for the first time since getting it, taking a sip. "If the show's tomorrow, though, why are you here now? Aside from cleaning. Thought we had some automatons to handle that drudgery." He shrugs all the same, though. "As for me? Really? I like just relaxing. Away from everything and everyone. It helps. Keeps me a little bit more on the level than I'd be otherwise... which is where you want me to be when I'm working on you." Blast Off raises an optical ridge at Misfire's "culture" comments, then shrugs and turns to look back at Dustoff. "Indeed, Misfire was... ah, in need of some of that "culture" to inspire him." He turns to look back at the Targetmaster. "You were feeling uninspired, *right*? And thought it might help to come go through the motions of doing your daily, mundane chores while in such a grand place as this? To take *back* that inspiration with you when you return to the miserable, wretched, life-is-a-pit state of your everyday existance, cleaning the stink off your feet and waiting for the nightmare to end?" He looks at Misfire pointedly, then gestures with a sweep of his arm, looking at Dustoff. "So he asked me to come with him, knowing how I enjoy this place. ...It was... quite thoughtful of him." He nods again at Dustoff's last comment. "...Uh, Yes, I suppose so. So- you enjoy Opera as well? Do you enjoy the Arts?" He then tilts his head. "Or... whatever the slag that was you were listening to back there?" Looking blankly at Blast Off for a long moment, failing to catch on...failing...failing...Misfire smiles as it clicks and he raises his flask! "I was totally uninspired...and like Life is a Box Of Chocolates Doledrums Real Folks Blues Like Stuff..." Misfire the raises his other hand, "Totally feel inspired now! Yay!" He then sips his flask again, "Uh, noted...make sure Dustoff is in his happy place before he cuts on me..." Misfire smiles as he looks around. Dustoff looks from Blast Off to Misfire and finishes off the flask in one go. "I enjoy what I enjoy. It's my place to know, not yours." He tosses the empty flask back to Misfire and turns to head back for the entrance. "Enjoy your night of doing...stuff. Let me know when a real mission comes up. Blast Off "breathes a sigh of relief" as Misfire catches on. "Yes, indeed! Sometimes a place such as this is a recharge all of its own." As Dustoff walks away, the Combaticon sniffs slightly. "Hmph. Some mechs do not appreciate culture as we do. It is their loss. Not everything has to be about "Missions"- and sometimes these "recharges of the spark" make all the difference on how one performs on the battlefield later." As Dustoff leaves, he turns back to Misfire. He stands there a moment, not quite sure how to say this. Finally, he brings a small flask of his own out of subspace. "This... is to thank you for coming here. For your... time. Well, and of course, I'm sure I would have figured this all out myself anyway, and as you said, I'm already a natural, and it really wasn't that big of a deal, and..." he finally just shuts up and hands Misfire the flask. "Anyway. This is the very last vial I have left of that Black Tar I obtained quite awhile ago. It is the highest quality high-grade you will ever experience. Do not insult me by refusing- just.... take it. With... my thanks." Looking at Blast Off, Misfire delicately takes the flask as he stares at it for a very long moment, "You are welcome Blast Off." He states with a smile, as he looks past the flask to catch Blast Off once again, "You are one of the good ones Blast Off. Don't let this get you down too much..." He smiles at his friend. "If you need anything else, please let me know..." He carefully slides his new flask back into subspace. "I'll save this until we can share it over Blurr's dead body." He smiles again at his friend, "But, uh, I do need to go back to base...see I was kinda on patrol, but it should be okay...Nothing is going on the Larmon Sector...." Misfire waves at his friend. "Enjoy the Opera Blast Off!" Blast Off watches Misfire go, then proceeds to shove the cleaning tools back inside the Janitor's Closet and turn off the light, shutting the door behind him. He walks back into the Main Hallway and stops to look up at the chandelier hanging far above. Some opera music plays softly in the speaker systems as an employee somewhere begins to test out the sound system. And for just a moment, despite his scruffy appearance and numerous problems... before he has to return to everything OUT THERE, ...all is right in Blast Off's world.